Bubblegum Bitch
by Black Blood of the Red Rose
Summary: On a sleepy autumn night, Oliver Kirkland finds himself once again craving an exceptional dessert. Though his meats browsing and his sweets cooking back fires against him, he is more than happy to indulging himself in a teasing game of cat and mouse.


**Warning: Language, Violence, Adult Themes/Content**

**Pairings: None**

**Beta: None**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia- Axis Powers, 2p! Characters, or any of the products mentioned**

**x~x~x~X~x~x~x**

Oliver merrily made his way through the store isles, oblivious to the peculiar looks directed towards him from what few patrons were in the quaint grocery store. The young man with pale as powder sugar skin wasn't much of an attention seeker, but the other customers saw him as such.

Vibrant pink hair wildly fell over his forehead and bounced with every movement, the tips and roots fading into a white from the harsh florescent lights glaring from the rafters. Wide baby blue eyes peered giddily underneath thick eyebrows, long delicate eyelashes batting every so often. The small smile gracing his pale pink lips created small dimples in his cheeks and pulled the light red freckles splattering the bridge of his nose and cheeks closer together. His clothes matched his sharp, livid features.

A bubblegum pink vest was pulled over a long-sleeves lavender button up, a bright blue bow tie standing out the most among the other relatively pale colors. Sharply ironed tan slacks and caramel dress shoes seemed to accentuate his tall, skinny as a Red Vine figure.

Yes, Oliver Kirkland most certainly looked like a circus reject or a madman begging for every eye in the room to be on himself. Yes, Oliver Kirkland was most certainly avoided by the dubious patrons. Yes, Oliver Kirkland most certainly enjoyed it. After all, only the worthy ones approached him.

Exaggerated eyebrows rose in wonder and doe-like eyes cursorily scanning the plentiful baking/dessert isle the queer man wandered down, a joyous skip in his step.

He browsed for the sweet items on his colorful shopping list, cheerfully singing his favorite nursery rhyme under his breath, he voice sickly sweet as his appearance.

_"Up and down the City road,  
>In and out the Eagle,<br>That's the way the money goes,  
>Pop! goes the-"<em>

"Oh~!"

Oliver's tune was cut short with a pleasant gasp of surprise. Switching the thin wire basket from the crook of his arm to the other, he leaned forward to inspect the brightly packaged goods on the towering shelves. Using two fingers to fiddle with the pink and white paper sugar package, he quietly mused to himself, "Let's see... How much sugar shall I purchase? One pound? More? Heavens..."

He was pulled out of his ponders at a light tap on his shoulder, a hollow thud echoing through his bones. A dainty but confident voice followed shortly, a hint of a Southern accent in its tone. "Excuse me, sir. But would you mind lending me a hand?"

Twisting his head downward, he tracked the voice to a rather short bird, the top of her head only reaching his shoulder. Her long chocolate brown hair was loosely pulled into a side ponytail, each of her many layers curling into a small spirals like the slick swirling top of an ice cream cone. A flowing white shirt swept down to the top of her particularly wide hips, and the her dark brown, almost black, tights where tucked into tall tan boots; all of which hugged her lean figure nicely. A sheepish smile added a twinkle to her deep hazel eyes. The bright lights reflecting off of her perfectly golden skin sealed the deal- she definitely reminded him of a gooey, freshly roasted s'more.

Oliver's lips stretched into a wide Cheshire cat smile that revealed perfect pearly white teeth, practically oozing gaiety. "Of course, poppet~! How may I be of assistance?"

The woman seemed startled by the British accent gracing his tone but recovered quickly. She cleared her throat and looked away as a light blush dusted her cheeks. "Well, I... ah, can't really reach the flour, being on the top shelf and... me, um, being vertically challenged and all..."

"Oh, fret not, birdie," the oddball reassured, with a small wave as if to soother her embarrassment. "You wouldn't believe the number of times I've been needed for my height."

Easily stretching his arm up, he used a hand to grab a paper bag of flour. Gently handing the pound of white grain to the woman, he chirped a warm, "here you are~!"

She accepted the bag with a slightly strained laugh and placed it inside of the wire basket in her arm. "Thank you so much, Mr..."

"Kirkland!" he finished with a small bounce, picking up where she left off. "Oliver Kirkland!"

"Well thank you, Oliver. Sorry for the inconvenience."

The male chuckled and waved in dismissal. "Pish, posh. It was certainly no trouble Mrs.?"

"_Miss_ West, Vanessa West."

"Vanessa!" He paused for a moment, mouth open and a finger at his chin. After a moment, he hesitantly requested, "If you don't mind, Vanessa, would you spare a penny for your opinion?

"Not at all," the brunette answered, nodding for him to continue.

"Well, I'm having a little gathering tonight, in about an hour so I suppose. Anyhoo, I'm not sure on what to bake for my guests or how to gather the correct amount of ingredients."

"Oh? Well, what are you thinking of making?"

"I was thinking about some red velvet cupcakes, but now I can't get the idea of backing a batch of caramel or s'mores cupcakes out of my head. Which would you rather have?"

Vanessa pursed her pink lips and tapped a finger on her jaw. "Hm... If it's something more formal, then I'd have to say the red velvet; but if it's something relaxed I'd say the caramel or s'mores."

"Ah, thank you," Oliver blessed with a clap of his hands. "In that case, would you mind helping me find the correct amount of sugar for some s'mores cupcakes?" He gestured to the assortment of sweet white powder along the third shelf with a discouraged look, the corners of his lips twitching down and his eyebrows pulling together. With a tick of his tongue he commented, "I always seem to forget the measurements here in the Colonies."

Confusion flashed across the woman's face. She eyed him dubiously and slowly urged him to elaborate, "Colonies? You mean the States-like the United States? Here?" She pointed to the gleaming white and black tiles beneath their feet for emphasis.

"Whoops, sorry," he playfully scoffed with a shake of his head and a roll of his eyes. "I can't believe I made such a mistake, excuse my rudeness. Heavens, I've been in _my_ England for far too long."

Jessica pulled her lips into a tight smile, hiding her annoyance at his mistake and confusion of his word choice. "Heh, yeah... No problem... How much do you think you need?"

**xXx**

A crisp autumn breeze danced through the peaceful night, traveling through the small town's streets and flicking the festive banners hung on the two lampposts and street sign (labeling the intersection between 1st and Elm) outside of the quaint grocery store. Vanessa shuddered at the chilly prickle, using the arm that wasn't carrying a stuffed plastic sack to rub away the goosebumps dotting her arms. Oliver on the other hand accepted the gust, tilting his head up to expose his neck. After all, he was an English man, so he was accustomed to chilly weather; switching from being in the uncomfortably warm and bright shop to being in the invigoratingly cool and dim evening outside felt relieving as drinking a tall glass of milk after eating a freshly baked cookie.

After taking a moment to absorb and adjust to their surroundings, the pair faced each other with polite smiles.

Shifting his bulging plastic grocery bag to his left hand, Oliver held his right out towards Vanessa. "Thanks again for the help, Vanessa. You saved my dinner party!"

The brunette loosely wrapped her slim fingers around his spindly ones and gave a quick pump before immediately letting go. "I should be saying the same to you, Oliver. I would not have been able to make my stew if you hadn't been there to grab the flour."

"Nothing a gentleman wouldn't do, my dear."

Unsure of how to bid goodbyes, they stared at each other for a minute of awkward silence, only sound of neighborhood dogs barking and the streetlamps humming with energy filled the sleepy evening.

"Um... Would you..." Oliver began sheepishly, fingering the hem of his vest and looking at the ground, "Would fancy to join me at my little outing? Since I just moved into the this adorable town, it's only going to be my new neighbors joining me in my flat. I'm afraid that I can be a bit shy at times, so it'd be nice to have somebody I'm au fiat with there to join me."

"Oh, um," Vanessa's eyes fluttered away from his hopeful gaze and to the ground as she shifted her weight from foot to foot, "Thanks for the offer, but I already have plans. Sorry..."

He chuckled and offered a good-natured smile. "Quite alright, luv."

She began to take slowly steps away from him, speaking over her shoulder, "Well maybe we'll have another run in, but for now, see ya!"

"Cheerio~!" Oliver bid cheerfully with a feminine wave of his fingers, meeting her polite smile with a beaming one. His eyes never left Vanessa's entrancing figure as she strolled down across the empty streets, passed the flashing fluorescent sign of a bar, and turning around the corner of an ice cream parlor.

"S'mores, huh?" he muttered longingly to himself, vibrant eyes still trained on the area the lavish woman disappeared, "I'll most certainly be waiting..."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked in the opposite direction as Vanessa, singing under his breath.

_"Up and down the City road,_  
><em>In and out the Eagle..."<em>

Harsh streetlight faded into gentle moonlight and shimmering starlight peeking out of grey, swirling clouds; and the brisk breeze morphed into a humid wind as the peculiar man strolled into a local park on the edge of the small town.

The loose gravel and colored dead leaves continuously crunched and crackled under his feet like Pop Rocks. He looked through the spindly grey hands reaching over his head and at the lone silver eye of the beast, half closed and peering down tiredly. "Don't worry, luv. We're in this together."

_"...That's the way the money goes,_  
><em>Pop! goes the-"<em>

A lonely, barren prairie sat just beyond the line of lush evergreens creating a barrier around the park. Just as he was about to push his way through the foliage border, he heard the loud rumble of an engine reeving from somewhere behind him, unceremoniously cutting of his singing. He looked over his shoulder, but still took slow steps forward. He half-expected it to be his cheeky American friend stopping by to yell at Oliver to "get the fuck out of my country", but was disappointed. Instead it was a band of teenagers, around four or five of them, piling out of the back of a large (now dead) red truck, sharp beams of light drunkenly wobbling across the ground and in the air from the flashlights they held.

Oliver froze mid-step and deeply sighed when a strong "Hey!" was called his direction. He twisted his body around to fully face the lanky male running his direction quick as a rabbit. The boy's deep blue silhouette slowly sharpened as he came closer, halting a few feet away from Oliver.

Red hair the color of an aging orange was pulled into a low ponytail that reached just the base of the stranger's neck, a few loose strands caught in the humid breeze framed his sharp, freckled face and swayed in front of olive green eyes. A wrinkled plain brown t-shirt seemed to be lazily tossed on, half of it tucked into holey jeans and the other half hanging just passed the waist of his pants. A pale, freckled hand was clenching and clenching a bulky metal flashlight. Over all, he reminded Oliver of a fruitcake. Dark and bland with only a few splatters of color and flavor here and there... Completely revolting.

"So-sorry, to bo-ther you," the rabbit wheezed, creating a strange nasally noise as he tried to catch his breath.

Oh dear, unfit as well... Oliver knew that many teenagers he had encountered were lanky like the boy, but they at least had some shred of muscle or stamina. This lad absolutely wouldn't do.

Oliver plastered on an ear-to-ear grin and cocked his head innocently to the side.

"Not at all, lad," he cooed, "What seems to be the trouble?"

A flash of surprise ran across the boy's face as if he had just remembered his reason for approaching the adult. "Oh, um, just a sec..." He stuttered out as he fumbled to grab a folded piece of paper from inside his front jean's pocket. After unfolding it he shakily held it out in front of him.

Though the picture was distorted by creases, the image was clear. A muscular teenager flashed a wide smile for the camera- the brunette girl on his arm doing the same as she idly fingered his short sandy blonde hair. Lips were pulled into a lopsided grin, revealing almost too perfect teeth, and forming laugh lines around his blue eyes that matched the color of the clear sky behind him.

"Um, we're-" the redhead gestured to the other teens back at the truck, "-kinda searching for a friend of ours. He's been missing for two week and, um, the cops are looking for him too, but haven't come up with anything. There's already been a couple search groups trying to find him if he's in the area, but they haven't come up with anything either. My friends and I just decided to continue so we made a slap-dab group and-"

Oliver allowed his gaze to harden slightly as he held a hand out in front of him, silencing the teenager's rapid, jumbled speech. "Lad, you're rambling. Just take a deep breath and tell me why you stopped me. M'kay?"

The boy's eyes grew wide, but he still nodded. He ran a hand across the base of his neck as he sucked in a deep breath. "Okay... So, really I just wanted to tell you to, um, look out for him- Xavier Newman. If you see him, just tell him that James Lynch is looking for him."

Oliver sighed in satisfaction, patting 'James' on the top of his head. "See, that wasn't hard now was it? I will keep my eye out this Xavier fellow."

James coward slightly under his touch and hawk-like gaze, but managed to mumble a quick, "Thanks. Goodbye," before speeding back to his friends.

Once James was far enough away, Oliver allowed his smile to drop into a frown of disappointment. He had been hoping that engaging physical contact with the lad would somehow prove him worthy; after all the boy was the first to approach him. But, alas, the teen did not meet his standards.

The thought of the James and Xavier characters still lingered in his mind as he pushed past the border of thick evergreens and through the solitary prairie. He shook loose the brittle pine needles that tangled in his hair and clothes, doing nothing to get rid of the short but still sickening memory of the two.

Honestly, Xavier could have been _such _a great guest if he wasn't so fake. His teeth were too perfect, straight as an arrow, shiny as a diamond. His skin was discolored, a strange orange color no doubt an effect of too much tanning lotion. His muscles were ridiculously huge; _honestly_there needs a better reason than "sports" to have muscles that size; entering a strong man contest would've sufficed as a good reason. The missing teenager frankly reminded Oliver of those gummy "orange slices" sold in the Colonies that were coated with a thick layer of sparkling sugar. Artificial all the way through.

He was actually glad the teen had (potentially) disappeared for good- one less failure to seek out.

"Oh! Speaking of fakes..." Oliver said to himself with pleasant surprise, reviving the joyous skip in his step.

He came upon a medium sized stick poking straight out of the soft ground like the candle out of a birthday cake. Carefully setting his plastic grocery sack on the ground behind him, he spread his legs into a stance that allowed him more leverage as he tightly wrapped his hands around the stick and pulled with all his might. Pulling upward and outward, the ground beneath the stick followed with a groan to reveal that the chunk of woods was a handle to an underground shelter.

The bright man grunted as he let the trap door drop to the ground with a cloud of dust, sending particles of dirt and shreds of stiff yellow weeds flying in the wind. He rubbed his hands together to sooth the tiny red burns the size of jellybeans pulsing the pads of his hands before picking up his sack of groceries. He circled around to the other side of the underground shelter and stomped down an aging staircase that moaned and squealed under his weight, ducking his head to avoid the low ledge that threatened to bump his forehead and spill dust.

Upon hopping off the last step, a wide room, surprisingly clean, spread before him. A dim, grimy light bulb swung from a single wire in the center of the room, casting an eerie grey glow in the concrete bunker. A long, oak table sat comfortably in the middle of the space, old, elegant wooden chairs surrounding the furniture and facing towards the bone-white, chipped china and Gothic candles scattered across the table. Lined up along the west wall were an array of worn kitchen appliances. A short egg-white fridge sat in the farthest corner, followed by an oven stove combination, a long counter top with a glittering assortment of silverware and kitchen tools perfectly placed on it; drawers and cupboards composed the counter's foundation.

Since his run in with Vanessa, Oliver grinned his first true smile, enjoying the homey feeling. The beaten-looking bunker had been around since he discovered America, accompanying him at every "party" and comforting him at every low point in his life. Ergo, earning a place in his heart.

He immediately set to work preparing for his guest. Shoes smartly clicking on the rough cement floor, echoing like the pops of bubblegum, he crossed the room and set his bag of goods on the counter. He set to stocking his newly bought ingredients in their place. Sugar and cocoa in that cupboard, eggs and butter in the fridge in the fridge, new whisk in that corner.

He stole a moment to peek out the open door and look at the churning dark skies. Neither moonlight nor starlight could pierce the thick mounds of black and grey clouds that overran the night sky. He flinched when there was a sudden burst of howling wind that could be heard with the distant sound of thunder. Dust and loose weeds flew in his face. A deep frown marred his face as he brushed the particles from his hair and shirt.

Honestly, how long was it going to take for that woman to finally arrive? Oliver hated to work in the filth, but he couldn't close the door yet; not until she appeared.

With a huff of annoyance, he returned to his work. He willed himself not to stomp his feet like a child as he crouched down to open the very bottom drawer beneath the counter, its contents rattling with the movement. Lined in crooked rows was a collection of needle syringes varying in all sorts of sizes and medium sized glass bottles differing in color. After a moment of speculating to himself, he drew out an average sized medical needle and a dark brown bottle. Removing the plastic cap from the syringe with his teeth and holding it between his lips, he pushed down the plunger as far as it could go, emptying the air out of the barrel. With practiced ease, he tilted the bottle of his specially made anesthesia and inserted the sharp needle through the rubber top. Slowly pulling out the syringe's plunger, a yellow-white liquid steadily filled the needle's barrel. Once filled to preciously the sixth line, he removed the needle from the bottle.

Oliver returned the bottle of anesthesia to its place in the drawer and placed the syringe's cap atop the counter. A fresh smile pulling his lips, he flicked the needle's shaft a few times to make sure that it was firmly connected to the syringe's adjuster. Yep, everything was perfect. Now all he could do was wait.

**xXx**

When Oliver heard the first creak of the stairs, he couldn't help but savior the adrenaline coursing through his body, creating a dull ache at his wrists and forearms. From his crouch underneath the stairs, he peeked between the gaps of the moaning steps and watched Jessica slowly and cautiously make her way down them. The act of the Frightening Boogey man and the Ignorant Child was now in action.

Fingers twitching anxiously, he was more than pleased to snatch her ankle through the gaps in the stairs once she came within his reach. With a high-pitched gasp of surprise, the woman fell forward. If it hadn't been for Oliver still holding her ankle in a tight grip, she would have tumbled down the stairs; the hold on her ankle only allowed her to fall onto the remaining steps on her side with a yelp.

Before Jessica could start to fight back, Oliver plunged the syringe into her leg, its exceptionally strong needle managing to pierce through her boot and bury itself into her tend calf. He injected the clear liquid into system with a sadistic laugh, overpowering her shriek of pain. His grip remained strong even as she began to wrestled against him, trying to kick and wiggle her way out of his hold. Little did she know, her struggling only made her pounding heart pumped the anesthesia even deeper into system.

Her eyelids drooping and fluttering open and closed, Oliver took that as his cue. He yanked the syringe out of her, ignoring her gurgled cry, and released his hold. She tumbled down the remaining stairs like a rag doll, sliding down on her chest for a moment before rolling on her side. Just as she hit the concrete floor with a sickening slap, he came out from behind the staircase with a twisted as a Twizzler grin.

Crouching down on one knee, he ducked his head towards her's. His memorizing eyes bore into her glassy ones. Specks of red as dark as the blood running down her temple flaked the outer edge of his irises.

"Nice of you join the party, _Agent_ Vanessa West."

**xXx**

_"Up and down the City road,  
>In and out the Eagle,<br>That's the way the money goes,  
>Pop! goes the-"<em>

A pleasant yelp of surprise escaped Oliver upon noticing his guest had begun to stir. Daintily lapping his hands in excitement, he quickly picked up his last tray of goodies in one hand and glided to the sparkling dining table. He paused for a moment to find a spot for the platter. The table was already filled to the edge with desserts chipped china.

Place it between the sugar cookies and plum pudding? No, not enough space.

By those two tea cups? No, the dark tea in them might spill of rattled.

A squeal of victory breached Oliver's lips as he found the perfect place. He placed the platter of s'mores cupcakes in the center of the table as if it were the Queen's Jewels. With a deep, calming breath, he mentally made sure that all the preparations were correct.

Door closed? Check.

Gun taken away? Check.

Room dusted? Check.

Dishes prepared? Check.

Tea boiled? Check.

Candles light? Check.

Dressed to the ninth? Check- Wait. Nope.

A look of panic crossed his face as he hastily untied the dirty, once pink but now crimson and brown, apron from around his neck and waist. With a small hop, he chucked it into a dark corner in the room with a wet _slop_. He stopped running his fingers through his messy pink locks just as he heard Vanessa sigh a low moan and groggily roll her head up. His lips pulled into a smile as he absorbed every detail about her as if trying to commit the moment to memory.

Red and black swirled on the right side of her head- the blood finally stopped seeping from her wound once Oliver had covered it with a once white rage and a bandage. Despite the overbearing scent of sugar cookies and chocolate, the pungent smell of iron and copper filled his nostrils. The sticky mess matting her wild hair and pooling at her eyebrow didn't falter her beauty one bit. If anything, it only made him want her even more. Chocolate ice cream with strawberry drizzle and a fluffy marshmallow... Absolutely divine.

Wide, pink satin ribbons wrapped around her body like bows on a Christmas present and securely tied her to the chair she slumped in. Her, now dirty, white blouse was pulled even closer to her torso by two strips of ribbon. One tied snugly just above her hipbones and another just below her breasts. Thin, bruised arms began and lean legs began to wrestle against the silky bonds strapped on their wrists and ankles. Oliver was pulled from his enticing thoughts by this movement.

"W-What the hell?" Vanessa growled through bared teeth and chapped lips, her dry throat and struggling causing her speech to stutter. Her dark eyes were somehow set ablaze despite their, glossy, sleepy haze.

Oliver clicked his tongue with a disapproving look. "Although I am glad to see that the anesthesia has worn off without any trouble, I quite upset to see such language coming from such a pretty little bird. _Wat_ch your tongue, poppet," he tutted, waving his finger at her from across the food-filled table. "We're civilized here. If you weren't the guest of honor, I'd make you donate a dollar to the swear jar."

"G-Guest of honor?"

"Ah! Of course, my dear. After all, you _did_ provide tonight's desserts."

Vanessa continued to eye with Oliver with a heated glare as he circled the table towards her like an animal stalking its prey. She only allowed here eyes to flicker to the pile of sweets on the table. When she looked back to him, confusion creased her face.

Before she could speak, Oliver rose a slender finger to his lips with a wink. His teasing smile grew demented as he pointed down to the thick, blood stained bundles of rags wrapped around her calves, taking place of where flesh was meant to be.

All the blood drained from her face as realization and horror marred her features. Her eyes bulged and she lurched to the side, over the arm of her chair, as a gagging sound escaped her. Waves of nausea scattered her mind after each tug of her stomach. Each painful twist and pinch of her empty stomach only produced a thick strand of spit that splattered on the concrete. When her "vomiting" fit was over, she hung her head low, allowing her hair to shield her face.

Oliver strolled to her chair and pushed it way from the table so there was enough room for him to kneel on one knee in front of her. Quick hot breaths blew in his face as he used his his thumb and forefinger to gently pulled her chin up so he could look her in the eye, tightening when she weakly tried to remove herself. Staring at her wide eyed with a mixture of wonder and sympathy, a small smile graced his lips as he lost himself in her wide, red-rimed eyes. Cupping his soft hands around her cheeks, he lovingly dragged one thumb across her trembling bottom lip, wiping away the saliva stringing from her mouth to her chin. He used his other thumb to rub the tender skin beneath her left eye, just above her burning cheek, to dry the droplets of tears.

"Don't worry, luv," he softly cooed, causing her already uneven to hitch. "It'll be over soon enough."

After losing himself in her for what felt like an eternity, Oliver blinked and broke the connection. He gave a little shake of his head and glanced away as if just realizing where he was. He let his fingers trail up the side of her face as he rose to his full height, caressing her jaw and temple before sliding into her dark locks. A frown twitched his lips when he heard her suck in a sharp breath when his right hand strayed to close to her injury. With a small _hmph_, he delicately placed a kiss on her hairline. Even as he turned away, the sweet taste of her blood tingled his lips and fueled his hunger.

"So, what would you like to try first, poppet?" Oliver chirped, his solemn attitude doing a one-eighty. "There's cake, scones, cookies, brownies- Oh! Yes, cupcakes! You must try them!"

Sucking in a deep, ragged breath, Vanessa managed to keep her head held up high enough to stared at him with stone eyes as he prepared a plate of s'mores cupcakes.

"W-Was this wha-t you did to Xavier? she croaked, spitting out the words like tobacco.

Oliver cocked his head to the side in confusion, pausing just as he was beginning to unwrap the brown paper from the soft cupcake. "I'm afraid that I don't know what your talking about, luv."

"T-The kid who went missing a-a week ago. Xavier Newman. Did you do this to him t-oo?"

"Oh... That lad..." He resumed his preparation with a small frown. "I'm afraid I know nothing about him. Only just heard of him tonight as a matter of fact."

"I... don't b-believe you..? Word travels f-fast in a small town like this. You should have heard-d even it you're "new"."

A disgusted frown overtook Oliver as he quickly took a swig of grey tea from a near by china cup with his free hand. With a shake of his head, he circled back around the table towards his captive, fingers holding so tight to the porcelain plate that his knuckles turned white. "I'm _offended _that you would even think that low of me. I mean, _honestly,_ why would you- you-" Oliver inhaled deeply to calm himself before he did something irrational. He snapped his jaw to the side and exhaled slowly, his candy-apple cheeks fading back into their normal color.

Vanessa narrowed her gaze as he sat the cupcake in her lap before moving to clear off a spot on the table directly in front of her seat.

"What's so wrong with that, _Oliver_?" she pushed slyly, thankful that the anesthesia had worn off enough for to not stutter like a broken record, but not enough so that she could feel any pain from her wounds.

It was obvious that she had gotten another rise out of him: he froze for a moment with his back turned to her, and she could see his shoulders tense up.

With a frustrated sigh, Oliver spun back to face her with a smile that threatened to split his face in two. Putting slight emphasis on each word he merely replied, "I think that's enough out of you, dear. M'kay?"

Vanessa calculatingly watched him sit on the table with a small hop. Using two feet, he pulled her chair closer to himself and rested his feet underneath the seat's arms, just to the side of her thighs. He picked up the plate in her lap and balanced it in one hand while the other delicately picked up the dessert. "Since you are the guest of honor, the first bite should be your's, shouldn't it?"

She bobbed her head to the side when he attempted to place the cupcake against her lips. She meet his disproving, hurt look with a cold, emotionless one.

"_What's_ wrong with Xavier?" she demanded.

"Eat your dinner, luv," he dodged.

"_What's_ wrong with Xavier?"

"Don't be stubborn. _Eat_ your dinner."

"_What's _wrong with him?"

"_Don't _test me."

"_What's_ wrong?!"

"_Eat_ dinner!"

"ANSWER!"

"EAT!"

Before Vanessa had time to react, a strong hand snatched her jaw by its hinge and yanked her forward. Taking her cry as an opening, another hand shoved the bottom corner of a moist cupcake into her mouth. He continued to shove the pastry down her throat as she chocked and gagged, going as far as to stick his forefinger and his middle finger in her mouth to push the food farther back. She tried to spit the food out once his fingers were removed, but a pair of lips slammed against hers not a second later, her tender skin breaking as their teeth clacked together upon impact.

Oliver could car less about the plate he had dropped. All that mattered right now was to make sure to keep a stern grip on her jaw and the back of her neck so that she couldn't move away. He could feel the crumbs on her plump, bloodied lips grind against his as she struggled to open her mouth and expel the food he forced in her. But, he kept his and her lips firmly shut until the slender fingers around her neck could feel her burning skin bulge and shiver as the sweet finally slid down her throat. Only then did he slightly pull back, keeping their sticky foreheads touching, and allowed her mouth to open and gulp for air, mirroring and mixing with his own uneven breathing. His glazed, half-opened eyes peek underneath long eyelashes, hoping to spare a moment to drown himself in her eyes; but was disappointing upon finding them clamped shut as if the woman's life depended on it.

Oliver's pink tongue darted out to wipe away the pink, pearly string of saliva hanging between the two and to wipe away the red stained chocolate crumbs sticking his lips. The errant tip of his tongue barely brushed her trembling bottom lip, yet it ignited his hunger and his body like a drug. However, with a deep rattling breath, he restrained himself from forcing himself on Vanessa with even more passion and ferocity than before. Leaning back fully, he sat up straight on his perch on the table, legs still tucked on the edge of her seat and arms folded in his lap.

"See?" Oliver commented cockily, pausing for a moment to suck in another struggled breath and wiped away the hot blood on his mouth. "That wasn't so bad was it now, darling?"

Vanessa remained still and unresponsive. Shoulders slouched forward, body caved into itself, eyes securely shut, she looked like a stone angel praying to her God.

"Come now, poppet," he soothingly cooed, respiratory system functioning normally. He raised one hand to lightly caress her forearm with the back of his fingertips, feeling goosebumps prickle her skin under his slow strokes. "No need to be stubborn."

After a moment, Vanessa finally controlled her breathing and sighed with a small shake of her head.

"Your turn," she whispered. Despite the frailness of her voice, she kept it even.

Oliver's eyebrows pulled together. "What?" He wished he could see her eyes right now. Maybe the lovely orbs would reveal what was going on in her pretty little head.

"Y-Your turn," she repeated, voice suddenly strong and stern. "I ate dinner. Now you have to do what I say."

He couldn't help but let a small bark of laughter escape him. "Is that so?"  
>"Yes." Her eyes snapped open and glared up at him with a malicious gleam, eyebrows furrowing and lips curling. "I <em>do <em>think so."

His smile twisted into a smirk and he stopped petting her. He propped his elbow on his knees and rested his chin in hid hands like a child waiting for story time. "Hm... Stubborn, headstrong, quick to recover... You really are one of my little brother's people."

Oliver's eyes lite with amusement, a stark contrast from Vanessa's dangerous glint. "Alright, allow he to indulge you. You should feel special. The mere _thought_ of _him_ makes me ill, so you're lucky that I like you enough to talk about him." He leaned forward so their cheeks were barely touching as he whispered into her left ear. "_Xavier Newman_-"

**BAM!**

"F.B.I. FREEZE!"

With in seconds, the little bunker was flooded with federal agents, circling Oliver and Vanessa. The S.W.A.T. team was armed with full body armor and trained assault rifles at him, dozens of tiny red lights crawling over his vital regions like ants on a sucker. F.B.I. agents had simply armed themselves with bullet-proof vests and peered down the short barrel of glock pistols aimed at him.

A male F.B.I. agent with short black hair took a step forward and set himself apart from the others. He set himself in a wide stance just close enough to Oliver to avoid being in the way of the other agents' guns. Stormy blue eyes narrowed in concentration and determination, giving Oliver a look that could kill.

In a voice just as stern and headstrong as his appearance, his order easily suffused the small space. "Oliver Kirkland, put your hands to your head and slowly step away from her."

Still froze in his hunch over Vanessa, Oliver barely contained a giggle despite the red lasers burning his skin. Ever so slightly, he tilted his head so that his lips brushed the shell of Vanessa's ear.

As he slowly raised his hands to the back of his head, he whispered in her ear at a volume that even she strained to hear. "_Pop_! Goes the weasel..."

**x~x~x~X~x~x~x**

**Whoooo! This is my longest chapter EVER!**

**So... This more of an exploratory one-shot (maybe more!). I wrote it because some of my other stories include 2p!s and I wanted to get a good grasp on them before I actually began to write them in. This fic took me weeks to finish, but it really did pay off. My perspective on Oliver has changed significantly.**

**Hope I get some feedback on how I portrayed Oliver.**

**I know I made a lot of weird analogies and metaphors and shiz. Hope it didn't' take away from the story. Love 'em? Hate 'em? Meh?**

**Depending on how you guys respond, I may make something out of this story. Maybe turn it into a multi-chap. Yay? Nay? Don't care?**

**Inspired by the song _"Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk"_ by _Rufus Wainwright _and "_Hello Kitty_" by Avril Lavigne.  
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**Hope you drop a comment or some constructive criticism.**


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